


The Undertaking

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-20
Updated: 2003-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1624538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy would appreciate it very much if Ron Weasley would stop trying to act so mature. It's not funny anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Undertaking

**Author's Note:**

> Written for FerretMalfoy

 

 

Ron Weasley, for the first time in his life, was trying to be mature. Hermione had said something that implied she might go out with him if he grew up a little, and lately he had begun to think that might be something worth aiming for. To do him credit, Ron's attempt was going rather nicely for someone unused to acting as if he was over the age of ten (which he was). Harry, oblivious of the reason for the change in Ron's behavior, was a little disappointed; Ron had become much less fun. Hermione, however, was well aware of the effect her advice had taken. Her words had accomplished exactly what she intended them to do, and she watched with satisfaction when some (intentionally thrown) oatmeal landing in Ron's hair during breakfast resulted only in a friendly smile. She was even more impressed after Potions the same day. Draco Malfoy had made a singularly vulgar pun pertaining to Neville Longbottom, and Ron, instead of tackling him or punching him in the nose, had calmly turned toward the Slytherin and told him that the joke might have been funnier if it was less rude, but he doubted it. 

Malfoy himself was less impressed. He prided himself on being rather witty. He knew that his jokes were not usually very nice and were very often beneath him, but at least, he thought, they were funny. They weren't, actually, but no one had ever told him that. One of the (many) disadvantages of being disgustingly rich is that people don't stop you when you seem to want to make a fool of yourself. Draco vaguely remembered noticing that Weasley had been unusually quiet for the past few days, but he hadn't thought it was important until now. And it was very important. He, Draco Malfoy, had been insulted by a Weasley. By Ron Weasley, no less, the boy Draco had thought he could always trust to meet him on his own (extremely immature) level. He always had before, but suddenly, Draco observed as the class continued, he was being stuck-up and stupid. It wasn't fair. 

As the days dragged on, things got no better. Draco needled Weasley about anything and everything he could come up with, but to no avail. The boy was maddeningly aloof. He wasn't even roused by slurs on his Quidditch skills. It was made even worse by the fact that Hermione Granger always seemed to be somewhere nearby, smiling a superior smile. It was clearly some kind of plot. Not that he liked Weasley at all, of course, but everyone else was either too serious (like Granger) or too stupid (like Potter). Weasley was like Draco. He just wanted to have fun. It was almost as if...yes, it was exactly as if Weasley was a comrade who had unexpectedly betrayed him. 

On a bright, clear Saturday morning about two weeks after he first noticed Weasley's upsetting behavior, Draco woke up on the right side of the bed for a change, and he came into breakfast feeling as if something special was going to happen. The air felt clean, and only a few people were yet up. As he passed the Gryffindor table, Draco overheard a snatch of a conversation between two of his fellow early risers. 

"Oh yes," one of them said, "He certainly wouldn't be acting so nicely if he weren't trying to impress Hermione," and the other one replied, "I liked him better before. He was fun." 

It was terribly obvious (to Draco, at least) that they were talking about Ron, and his spirits sunk. So that was why he had been acting that way. He had known it was Granger's fault from the beginning. She'd stolen Ron, and Draco wanted him back. Anyway, if Ron wanted a girlfriend, he could do much better than Granger. Hadn't that rather pretty girl over there just said that she liked Ron when he was fun? Draco had liked him then, too, (he hadn't, really, but he had conveniently forgotten that) and he was quite sure nobody but Granger preferred him the way he was now. It would be a public service on Draco's part to get him back to his old self, but all his attempts had failed, and he was out of ideas. 

Draco made his way over to the Slytherin table, which clearly contained fewer morning people than any of the other houses' tables. He spitefully did not enjoy his breakfast and then stomped out of the Great Hall. After a quick stop for his coat, he made his way outside and sat down on the steps. His bright, excited feeling of half an hour before was gone, and as he glumly stared up at the clear, pale gray sky, he decided to stay there until he froze or something. 

The cold had barely begun to make its way through the many layers of Draco's clothing when it started to snow for the first time that winter. It fell lightly at first, with tiny flakes that stuck to Draco's cheeks and hair, or settled in his eyelashes, but only a few minutes after it started, it was falling hard, in clumps instead of flakes, rapidly whitening Draco's coat and the dark green of his scarf. A little less than ten minutes later, Draco scraped up enough snow off of the steps to make a modest snowball. He smiled, and hid around the corner to lie in wait for the first student who came out to see the snow. To his great surprise and delight, it turned out to be none other than Ron Weasley. Draco's snowball hit him squarely in the ear, and he yelped. Draco made another snowball, but before he could throw it, Ron had hit him in the mouth with one of his own. Undeterred, Draco sent his second snowball in the direction of Ron's head, but missed and hit him in the arm instead. Ron made a funny noise, grabbed a handful of snow, and started stuffing it in Draco's face. Before Draco could retaliate, the boys saw Professor McGonagall striding towards them. 

"We'll finish this tonight," hissed Draco, "A duel. I'll meet you in the first floor corridor. Midnight." Ron only had time for a brief nod before their irate Transfiguration teacher grabbed hold of them and dragged them to her office. Draco wondered for a moment why she was so angry, but then he realized that Ron had given him a bloody nose. He smiled to himself, pleased with his work. The promise of the morning had not come to nothing after all. There was, of course, The Problem of Granger, but he didn't want to dwell on that. 

Draco was excited but apprehensive. This was annoying, as it took away from his enjoyment of the school-wide snowball fight. He tried to ignore his feeling of foreboding. Why should he be unhappy? He was going to have a fight with Ron Weasley, which was exactly what he'd been trying to do for the past two weeks. Still, he didn't feel so good about it. Somewhere along the way, he'd stopped wanting to fight Ron. He had wanted Ron back the way he was, but now he just...well, his feelings toward Ron weren't unfriendly in the least. "All right then," said Draco to himself, idly tossing a snowball at a nearby first-year, "If I know what the problem is, I can fix it". Perhaps he could. We shall see. 

When Ron arrived in the appointed place at the appointed time, Draco was already there. He was sitting against a wall and sulking because he hadn't come up with a plan. "Hello, Weasley," he said. Ron, not noticing the quasi-friendly tone of voice, or perhaps just not caring, returned coldly, "Malfoy." 

Draco was more than a little upset about the inadequate greeting, but, not wanting to appear at a loss, he fell back on his old pastime of taunting Ron. He'd clearly gotten better at it, too, because his first shot ("Is Granger keeping your bed warm for you?") hit home. Ron launched himself at Draco and started pummeling him. Draco fought back, and, as befitted a Slytherin, He fought dirty. Ron's Gryffindor affiliation didn't stop him from doing the same. 

They both kicked and scratched and bit, and when Draco finally pinned Ron down, blood dripped off his nose onto Ron's face. Afterwards, Draco thought that might have been what made him kiss Ron. He had no idea what made Ron kiss him back. Ron was, if possible, more awkward than Draco, but somehow it worked. Their mouths were sticky from the blood which flowed from Ron's split lip, but it didn't seem to bother either of them. It certainly didn't bother Draco. He slid his tongue in at the corner of Ron's mouth, and Ron gasped and kissed back harder. Draco smiled into the other boy's mouth. Things, he thought, couldn't get much better. 

After a little while, they moved apart. Ron looked gratifyingly happy, but Draco was, as ever, unable to leave well enough alone. He asked about Hermione, much less rudely this time. 

"What about her?" asked Ron, suspiciously. 

"You like her." 

"Yes." 

"Why?" asked Draco. He sat up. "You don't want to be the way you've been acting for the past couple of weeks. You were bored." 

"Yes. Yes, I was," said Ron, "but--" 

"You could do much better," said Draco, "There was this fifth-year girl I overheard at breakfast this morning. She said she liked you when you were fun. She was very pretty." 

Ron made a derisive noise. 

"Or there's me." 

The look on Ron's face was priceless. Draco found it very amusing, but not necessary to continue for very long. He kissed him again. 

"Ron?" he asked, after a few minutes, "When was the last time you had a pillow fight?" 

 


End file.
